Mendacity
by JoMarchWrites
Summary: The tendency to lie. It's within us all. But for one woman, it's not a choice. What happens when the truth comes out, and her carefully constructed house of cards comes crashing down? Will the one man she needs most in the world help her pick up the scattered deck and rebuild, or will she be left alone with nothing but the remains of her mendacity? (Multichap, non-cannon, EO)
1. Mendacity 1

_**Part 1: She's a dark horse.**_

_**Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.**_

"You sure you can do this?"

It was a question she'd been asked more than once. Her answer never changed. "Yes." She nodded, her dark bangs falling into her eyes. With one finger, she flicked them away, then wrapped her hand around the amber bottle and raised it to her chapped lips. She drank, long and slow, and tried to forget the list of lies she'd told that day. Half-truths that spewed from her mouth and false statements written on paper, made legal. She slammed the bottle down, nodding toward the bartender for another one. This one was to forget people. People she could no longer look in the eyes, and some she never had. She sipped and looked toward the man to her left, his blue suit looking dingy in the hazy light of the bar. "Of course."

"Well, I have to ask," the man said, signaling the barman for a drink of his own. "You're too close, now. If you feel like you can't do this anymore, then you're going to have to choose, and...well...I think we both know which choice you'll make." He leaned against the bar, staring at her for a moment. "There's only so many times you can go on these undercover gigs by yourself before he starts asking the right questions. Fuck, you almost blew your cover out in Oregon because..."

"This time's different," she interrupted, reassuring both him and herself. She flinched as she remembered several situations where she'd gone undercover, sometimes willing and sometimes not. Every time, though, she ended up hurting the only person in the world she trusted without question or pause. "Well," she scoffed, again bringing her beer to her lips, speaking against the rim, "...the lie is the same, but he'll be there this time." She took a long swig.

The man beside her curled his lips and shook with a laugh that was something between sad and bitter. "Always comes down to him." He downed his dark drink in one swift shot and grimaced as it burned his throat.

"Always," she said with a nod.

He looked at her, a stern seriousness in his eyes, though she was staring straight ahead, at nothing. "You really think you can still play the game? I mean, do even remember what fucking team you're on?" He watched anxiously as the bartender poured him another shot. He chugged it back and looked at her again, the same pained expression on his face as before. "This time, yeah, he'll be there, but you're working different angles. As your point person on this, I need to know that Special Agent Olivia Benson won't burst into flames, letting Detective Benson rise from the ashes and give some low-rate police department the credit for a case it took us months to build. I need to be sure you can keep..."

"Porter," she spat, turning her head sharply, needing him to stop babbling. "I know what I'm doing. I know how to do my job."

"Just remember what your job is, Olivia," he said, lowering his voice and speaking harshly into her ear. "Don't forget what your real job is, don't get your lines crossed, and if you fuck him, make sure you can look him in the eyes the next. Don't make him an accessory to all of this, and don't set yourself up for heartache."

She snorted and furrowed her brows, briefly thanking the gods that there was something he didn't know, and then she crossed her arms. "Wait, you're giving me relationship advice? That's like asking Julia Child how to make a TV dinner."

"No," he said, shaking his head. He ran a bony hand over his angular face. "I'm giving you survival tips." He shoved the hand that had scrubbed along his chin into his pocket and pulled out two crisp twenty dollar bills. He situated them under his empty shot glass and said, "Whether you're aware of it or not, he only really knows half of you. When he's grunting out your name, does he really know who he's talking about?"

Fuck. He did know, after all.

He grabbed her arm, just below her shoulder, and he gritted his teeth. "I let you go because I realized I can't have all of you. The irony is, neither can he."

She sneered at him as she watched him walk away, her eyes following him out of the bar. "Shit," she hissed, rubbing her eyes. She slid the empty bottle toward the en of the counter and tossed a twenty dollar bill of her own onto the sticky marble. She scooted off of the stool, grabbed her leather coat, and pulled it on as she followed in Porter's dusty footsteps.

Pushing the bar doors open, she took a deep breath. The icy New York air filled her lungs, and she wasn't sure if she was suffocating or relaxing. She looked around as she pulled her black leather gloves on, taking in the seemingly mundane evening, but she was seeing intricate details. She noticed a man with a limp, and she rolled her eyes as she took her first steps toward the apartment building. "Ankle bracelet," she mumbled to herself, knowing the man was wearing government issued Lojak on his right leg. She passed couples, some kissing, some fighting, and she knew from looking which were relationships and which were affairs, and which were somewhere in between.

She took another chilled breath and turned her gaze toward the skies. There weren't any stars, she noticed, and for a moment she missed Oregon. A case had taken her there, and she spent hours each night looking at the stars. Wishing on them. She pushed the memory back down, locking it away, when she remembered those sleepless nights, wishing she was somewhere else, with someone else, unable to control her need for him and unable to lie when asked who he was.

It was the moment she realized that it didn't didn't matter what job she had, where in the world she was, she was his. He was the only person in the world whom she had given everything to, the only one in the world that could break her. She prayed every night that he never would. That somehow, when the truth came out, he would still want her, still be there.

She trudged up the hill, then up the few stone steps to her front door. She swiped her key-card through the lock and opened the door, rolling her eyes at the fact it was colder in the building than outside. She breathed into her gloved hands as she nodded to her doorman, and she took the stairs up three floors, believing if she stopped moving for a single second her body heat would diminish.

Already holding her key in her hand, she sped up just a bit to get to her door a bit faster. She grabbed the knob, but froze before she slipped the key into the lock-hole. Her door was already open. She dropped her key into her pocket, taking hold of her gun instead, and she readied it as she slowly turned the knob and pushed.

"Relax," he said without turning around. "It's me."

She dropped her arms and holstered her gun, kicking off her shoes before closing her door, making sure to lock it. "What are you doing here? It's almost two in the morning."

"Better question," he said, turning to look at her with crossed arms and heavy eyelids. "Where the hell were you?"

"El, I...don't do this, okay? Not tonight." She pulled off her gloves one by one and tossed them onto her discarded shoes, then hung her jacket on a hook behind the door.

He took a step toward her. "We got off at midnight, I went home to get a bag ready, I came right here and..." he searched her eyes, hoping to see clarity. "Where were you?"

"I went for a couple of drinks with..." she paused. She didn't want to risk setting him off. Not tonight. "Casey." The case got to me, and I wasn't sure you were coming here tonight." Not a lie. Not the whole truth.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he padded toward the couch, the crumbled throw blanket now on the floor. He waved a hand at the disgruntled looking sofa. "I was waiting for you, I...I fell asleep."

She turned her eyes up and gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry," she said, wandering over to him, She put her arms around him and said, "If you would have told me, I..."

"Well, then, it wouldn't have been a surprise." He kissed her forehead and ran his hands up and down her arms. "You're here, now, so...can we just...go to bed?" He kissed her lips softly and guided her into the bedroom. He plopped onto the firm but bouncy mattress and watched her intently as she undressed. He couldn't hide the smirk on his face. "I can't believe we have to leave at fucking six in the morning. What kind of seminar is this, again?"

"LEEDS?" she said over her shoulder pulling the worn-out blue v-neck sweater over her head. "Law enforcement executive development? Strategic planning and media relations? Is any of this ringing a bell?" she laughed, seeing the clueless expression on his face. "We found out about this weeks ago!"

He looked at her, biting his lip to keep his arousal at bay, and he crooked a finger at her.

She narrowed her own eyes, giving him a hungry smirk, and then walked toward him, her underwear clad body falling into his. She looked into his eyes as she felt his hands move, aware that he was tugging off her panties. She kicked up her legs to allow him to do so, then looped her arms around his neck so he could unclasp and dispose of her bra.

"Love this part of the night," he said, smiling wickedly at her. He moved over and let her elongate, then sat up and pulled off his boxers, the only thing he'd been wearing. He threw them like a basketball, across the room and into the hamper, and he flopped back onto the bed. He pulled her into him, curling his naked body around hers, and then nuzzled into the crook of her neck. "Why do we have to pretend to care about any of that? Can't we just bust the guy at the airport?"

"You really don't listen when Cragen speaks, do you?" she scolded playfully.

He shook his head, being sure his lips ran along an expanse of skin, making her moan softly. He loved that sound.

"All part of the cover, El." She kissed his forehead then sunk deeper into him. "It's all...just part of the game."

**_A new story._**

**_Please, read and review. Feedback is appreciated. _**

**_Peace and Love_**

**_Jo_**


	2. Mendacity 2

_**Part 2: Fly by night. Or day. **_

_**Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.**_

She was the first one up, which wasn't a surprise since she hadn't fallen asleep. She showered and dressed, a pair of black yoga pants and one of his old Marine t-shirts. Her hair was pulled back into a short ponytail with her bangs falling into her eyes. She yawned as she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, fumbling around in the cabinets for something that resembled food. They had a long trip ahead of them, and she hated like hell to go on an empty stomach.

She knew he was watching her; she always knew. She could feel his eyes burning into her skin, a feeling she had grown to love. "Oatmeal," she said with a shrug. "Better than nothing."

He laughed and walked toward her, still naked, not caring. When his arms wound around her, he sighed. "We don't really have to go, do we? Fin and Munch could..."

"Not the right rank for this. They couldn't go even if they wanted to," she interrupted. Again not a lie. But still not the whole truth. She hit the start button on the microwave, then turned around to face him. She bit her lip as her eyes traveled up and down his body, taking in his form. "You have no shame."

"Nothing to be ashamed of," he said with a wink. "Besides, you've seen me naked. A million times. I haven't heard you complain."

"Oh, I'm not complaining," she chuckled with a darker expression. "But you should get dressed...before, uh, I'm tempted to make us late."

He gripped her tighter and pulled her toward him. "We can be late," he whispered, before nipping at her earlobe.

She moaned and her eyes fluttered, and she was moving very slowly, slinking down to her knees, a hungry look in her eyes, but the beeping of the microwave saved her from having to eat something else for breakfast.

"Fuck," he chuckled, pulling her up. "Now that thought is gonna be running through my mind all day."

She smiled and said, "Something to look forward to. I promise." She kissed him, lingering against his lips for a while. "Go. Get dressed."

He nodded and kissed her forehead, and she watched his perfect ass fade back into the bedroom with a lustful look in her eyes. "Damn," she gritted out to herself. She turned and pulled the two steaming cups of oatmeal out of the microwave, jabbed a couple of spoons into them, and carried them over to the short table by the front door. She bent down to pick up her gloves, pulled on her boots, and was just grabbing her jacket when her phone rang.

"Benson," she answered, eyeing the bedroom door. "Yeah, we're heading out now. I know, but...look, Porter, he'd understand, I promise, I..." her eyes closed as she half-listened to the same lecture he'd been giving her for years. "I hate...this is killing me," she whispered, a sting consuming her eyes and nose. She refused to cry and cleared her throat, composing herself just as Elliot walked back into the living room. She snapped her phone shut and dropped it into the pocket of her brown jacket. "Ready?"

He smiled at her and nodded. "I am always ready to march into hell with you," he joked, striding up to her and planting a kiss on the end of her nose. "How'd I get so fucking lucky?"

She gave her a cockeyed look and reached for the doorknob. "Huh?"

"You," he told her. "I was losing everything. My family, my job, my mind...and there you were, keeping me from..." he blinked as he stopped speaking. "God gave me you when I needed Him the most. An answer to every prayer I ever..."

"Stop," she demanded, pressing a leather sheathed finger against his lips, guilt rising in her like the midnight tide. "I know." She replaced her finger with her lips and nuzzled him for a moment. "I feel the same way, you know I..." she got lost in his eyes for a second too long and shook her head. "We, uh, gotta go catch us a bad guy."

He rolled his eyes and pulled his coat off the second hook, he pulled it on, grabbed the almost forgotten oatmeal, and he trailed half a step behind her as they walked out of the apartment.

The ride to the airport was quiet, but content. They rode in the back of a black Towncar, Fin behind the wheel, both itching to hold hands or kiss one last time before they were on the clock. Olivia's phone bleeped as they parked near the gate, and Elliot watched her face contort as she read the text message. Then he shot her a curious look.

"No one," she said, answering his unasked question and putting her phone back in her pocket. "Thanks for the ride, Fin. Uh, we get back Saturday, at..."

"I know," Fin cut in. "I'll be here to get ya. Just, uh, be careful. We need you both coming back in one piece."

Olivia nodded, waving to him with the free fingers of her right hand, clutching a duffel bag. She took a deep breath and looked at Elliot, smiled, and walked with him through the sliding doors. They stepped to the side, both flashing their badges at the security guard near the metal detector. He nodded, checked their weapons and bags, and pointed them through the turnstiles.

Elliot plopped into the first open seat he saw, patted the seat beside him, and let his eyes stick to Olivia's body as she sat down. "Listen, uh, there's something...I need to ask you."

Her entire body went rigid. Panic began to build. How the fuck did he find out, she wondered, forcing her widened eyes to look at him. "What?" It came out like a small yelp.

He chuckled. "Relax, I'm not gonna propose or anything." He raised one eyebrow. "Yet." He rested one hand on her knee. "Liv, I just...I need to know if...what exactly is..."

"Sorry," she winced, a pained expression on her face as her ringing phone kept him from continuing. She looked down at the name and number, the shot her head up. She looked around nervously, her eyes narrowing and darting around.

"What is it?" he asked, his mood absorbing hers. He looked in all directions, but he had know idea why. "What the hell is..."

"He's here," she said, getting out of the chair. She held an open palm out to Elliot, telling him to stay where he was, and she walked away, stepping behind a thick cement pole to take the call. "Yeah," she answered. picking at her nails. "The drop is tonight, as planned. The courtyard of the Crowe building, midnight. You bring the girl, I'll bring the cash. No. No cops. You're taking a risk, though, all those federal agents..." she paused to laugh. "I guess that is the thrill of it, getting away with it, right under their noses. I'll see you then. Oh, and Carlisle? She'd better be alive, or you won't be." She hung up, then looked sadly at Elliot. "He'd understand," she said, parroting what she had told Porter, hoping to convince herself.

"What were you talking about?" he asked as soon as she was within earshot. "He's here? Our perp?"

"No, uh, I..." she held up her phone and said, "Wrong number. I thought it was surveillance telling us he was here. I'm just...a little eager to get this over with, I just...I want this whole thing to be...over."

"Me, too," he said, sighing, listening to the announcements so they wouldn't miss their flight.

She cleared her throat and looked at him, trying to smile. "What were you gonna ask me?"

He kissed her forehead. "It's not important." He strained to hear the voice over the loudspeaker, but he got up fast. "That's us." He pulled her up, took her hand with his right and grabbed his bags with his left. They moved fast, through the crowd, toward their gate.

She dropped his hand so he could hand the attendant their tickets, studying his face. He looked calm, relaxed, and she swallowed the lump in her throat when she thought about how short lived that halcyon demeanor would last. The more she told herself he would understand what she had to do, the less she believed her own lie.

_**Read and review? Please? Perhaps? ;)**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	3. Mendacity 3

_**Part 3: Out of the Bag**_

_**Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.**_

"Are you listening to anything he's saying?" Elliot leaned over, shifting in the uncomfortable metal chair and whispered to Olivia.

She shook her head. "We don't really have to," she said, her head resting on her chin. "You wouldn't be able to tell," she said, jutting her chin at the rather distinguished looking man standing at the front of the room giving the lecture. "Not by looking, anyway."

"Hmm," he hummed in agreement. "You never can, you know that." He scratched the side of his face, his stubble growing in already, despite his morning shave. "How many agents did this guy take?"

She bit her lip, checked her watch, glanced out the window, and tugged the sleeves of her dark blue suit jacket down a bit. "Twelve," she said. She took a deep breath, looked at Elliot, then sent a furtive glance toward someone else, who was standing by the door. She coughed into a balled fist, once, and felt her stomach lurch when that man nodded at her, once. "Hey, uh, I'll be right back, okay?" She tried to smile at him, but her nerves were getting the best of her.

"Where are you going?" he asked, almost panicked. "We have to...this is gonna be over in a few..."

"I will be right back," she said, again, holding her breath as she unconsciously brushed the back of her hand along his sandpaper cheek. She mouthed, "I love you," and turned away from him, knowing his eyes were following her every move.

He watched, confused, as she walked through the double doors, but narrowed his eyes when the man who'd been standing there for the last two hours followed her. "What the fuck is going on?" He shook his head, chalking up to coincidence, and sat back in his chair with a huff. He told himself she'd only gone to the bathroom, and he tried to focus on the speaker. He grew bored after mere moments, and yawned, stretching, and his gaze turned toward the window.

He did a double-take, though, as something odd caught his attention, and his eyes widened. "What the hell..." he hissed as he shot up out of his chair and bolted from the room.

* * *

"You're here," Olivia said, her arms folded, grinning at a light haired man with glasses. She took a step toward him and let her arms fall to her sides. "The girl?"

"Over there, by that tree, with a few friends of mine," he nodded toward a weeping willow, and two burly guys in jeans and dark jackets had guns trained on a very still, very scared teenage girl. "And...the money?" he questioned, returning his attention toward Olivia.

She held up her right hand, waving a blue zipcase at him.

The man chuckled, grinning, and took a few steps closer to her. "And of course, you know, I have to...well, I can't say I won't enjoy it, but it must be done."

Nodding, Olivia held her arms out and up, letting the man frisk her. "No wires, Bishop. I'm not an idiot. And I'm not armed." She grimaced when she felt his hands pat her ass and she held her breath when they smoothed up her thighs. "Like I said..."

"You know I had to check," he interrupted. He snatched the vinyl bag from her, unzipped it, and fanned through the cash, then slowly turned his head toward his companions, and he nodded.

As soon as she saw that the girl was far enough away from the tree and close enough to her, she whispered, "Go." She didn't flinch when the gunshots rang out, she didn't bat an eyelash when the men who'd been armed and dangerous a few seconds prior were now limply slipping down the rough bark, and she didn't even break a sweat when she launched a high kick and grabbed the arm of her target. "Don't," she spat harsh, twisting Bishop's arm further behind his back and bringing him to his knees. "Don't even try it." She pulled a gun out from its hiding spot, holding it to the back of his head, and she looked over her shoulder toward the girl, now flanked by three men in bulletproof vests.

Porter ran out from behind a red truck, shouting something into a walkie talkie as he ran over to Olivia. He sneered down at Bishop as he tore the money bag out of his hand and said, "You are in for a world of pain." He grabbed Bishop's other arm, turning it roughly to meet the one behind his back. "I got it, Benson," he said with a nod.

Olivia took a breath as she holstered her gun and watched Porter pull two strong zip-ties around Bishop's wrist. "How is she?"

"Shaken up, but you made the deal before anyone hurt her," Porter informed. "Good work, Agent." He winked at her as he dragged Bishop toward the waiting black car.

"Agent?" a cold, angry voice hit her ears.

She licked her lips, put her hands on her hips, and said, "Thanks for waiting until that was over." She knew he'd been standing on the steps, watching. "You have every right to..."

"What the fuck is going on?" he cut her off, storming over to her. "What the fuck was this? You...You have to be fucking with me!" He looked around, panic stricken and shaking. "I mean, this...this is some kinda joke, right? Getting even for that stunt with Fin? He called you...Agent...fuck, who the fuck are you?"

She reached for his shoulder, but he swatted her hand away. "Don't fucking touch me."

"El, I..." she choked on a sob, he eyes filling with hot tears. "Can we talk about this? This isn't how I wanted you to find out, I..."

"Find out?" he barked. "Oh, so you were gonna tell me about this, when, huh? Next week? Next year? At my retirement party?"

The ferocity in his voice, his red face, and the way his whole body was tense and trembling terrified her. She felt her entire life slip between her fingers and the color drained from her face. "No, El, I...tonight. When this was...over."

"Over?" he spit. He moved toward her. "The only thing that's over right now, Olivia, is..." he paused, he furrowed his brow and gritted his teeth. "Is that even your real name?"

She let out a strangled laugh, stunned. "Of course it is!" she didn't know the tears were falling. "Everything...I have never lied to you, Elliot, you have to..."

"Look around!" he shouted, gesturing to the scene they'd been surrounded by. "How the fuck can I trust you?"

Dean Porter, standing behind Elliot, cleared his throat. "You two, uh, need to come up to the..."

"And you," he intruded, lunging at Porter. "All those times you came barging into the station, Oregon, her brother, that...the whole time, she was a fucking FBI...and you had to make it look like she..." he squeezed the bridge of his nose. "This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening!" He sniffled, refusing to cry, and he shook his head hard. "No, no...her brother, you forced her to do all of that, you threatened to arrest..."

"I wasn't threatening to arrest her," Porter said pointedly, glaring at Elliot.

It hit Elliot, hard. Porter had been threatening him. "Christ," he swallowed hard and he clenched his fists. "So that's why we were really here? That guy in there...he's not anything, and we were here for this?"

Porter nodded. "She refused to do this without you." He still had his arms crossed. "I tried to convince her...the night before we flew out, I told her you'd be pissed, tried to scare her into telling you to stay behind." His lips curled into a vengeful smirk. "No, though, she thought enough was enough. Granted, you weren't supposed to..."

"Dean!" Olivia shouted, then, now fully aware that she was crying. "Stop trying to help."

Elliot scoffed. "Yeah, you told me you were with Casey." He looked at her, for the first time there was something other than devotion in his eyes. "You never lied to me, huh?"

"Not about..." she broke. "Fuck, Elliot, what was I supposed to do?" She took the few steps it required to be close enough to touch him. "You think this was all easy for me? I had a job to do, I wasn't supposed to fall in..." she held back, squeezing her eyes shut. "I know you're pissed at me. This is...a lot to..."

"Save it," he fired back. "Fly back with them." He shook his head again and walked away, heading back into the building.

More tears rolled down Olivia's cheeks, but she was frozen to the spot near the willow tree. She looked down, shook her head, and remembered why she tried so hard not to love him. She didn't even notice Porter running up the steps after Elliot.

"Fuck off," Elliot gritted out, punching the button for the elevator. "I have nothing to say to you."

"I have a lot to say to you," Porter told him, getting in his face. "You love her."

Elliot scoffed, feeling the sting behind his eyes, wishing he could just get a moment alone to deal with his emotions. "I thought I did," he heard himself say, and he shattered. "I do, but..."

"She couldn't tell you," Porter stopped him. "Not about this. I...I wouldn't sign off it."

"What the fuck does that..." Elliot realized exactly what it meant. "You kept her from..."

Porter nodded. "I didn't think she...Stabler, I don't like you, you know that. It's not a secret. But she...fuck, I didn't think you were..."

"You don't trust me," Elliot said, furious, stepping into the elevator. He rolled his eyes when Porter got in, too. "Oh, would you please, just fucking...go to hell!"

"I can't do that," Porter sighed. "I did everything I could think of to keep you out of all of this," he admitted. "When she...that whole thing with her brother...I knew that nothing I could possibly do, or say, would convince her you couldn't be trusted." He cleared his throat and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. "You have to understand, Stabler, you were a loose cannon. You break rules, you have a problem with authority, and you know damn well you would never take orders from me. I didn't think you could...or would..."

"For her, I would," he said softly. "How could she keep this from me?"

Porter raised an eyebrow. "I just told you, I..."

"That shouldn't have mattered!" he yelled, oblivious to the fact the elevator had zoomed past his floor. "She should have come to me anyway, the second we got..."

"Too fucking close," Porter spat. "She was warned, she was reprimanded, she was suspended, but she kept running back to you." He ran a hand down his face. "Whatever, she kept one thing from you, fucking deal with it. The shit she pulled to save your ass should fucking make up for it, right?" He smirked. "Or are you gonna give her a reason to finally see that I was right about you."

The elevator stopped, they heard the small ding, and they walked out together when the doors slid opened. Elliot, though, felt like he was suffocating when the elevator directly across from him opened, and Olivia walked out.

She stopped, dead in her tracks, and she felt her bottom lip quiver, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He was staring back at her, hurt, angry, but she still saw what she needed to see hidden behind the pain.

Porter looked away; the sight was too much, even for him. "Come on," he said.

"Where are we going?" Elliot asked, turning away from Olivia.

Porter laughed bitterly. "I tried to tell you when we were outside," he said, starting to walk. "You both had to come up here, Stabler, what you saw…"

"Oh, bull-fucking-shit," Elliot blared. "I am not gonna just throw myself into this shit, now! I can't...I'm too pissed off to even be in the same room with…

Porter turned, and though he knew it was stupid, he pointed a finger and jabbed it into Elliot's chest. "You're not throwing yourself into a damn thing, Stabler, but think long and hard about what you'd be throwing away if you don't come with me!" His nostrils flared as he silently conveyed that he meant Olivia.

Elliot swallowed, then nodded, starting to follow Porter, resisting the urge to reach for Olivia who was walking beside him.

Porter led them to a conference room, held the door open, and jerked his head toward the chairs, telling them to sit.

Olivia watched Elliot, hoping if she sat, he would at least sit close enough to tell her he didn't hate her. She loathed how much she needed him. She fell into a cushioned chair, her eyes trained on him, but she flinched when she saw him move in the complete opposite direction. She couldn't stop the audible sob from escaping and but dropped her head, controlling herself.

The room was stuffy, tense, but Porter moved freely through it, over to a filing cabinet in the back. He pulled something out of it, a thick red folder, and strutted back toward the two pissed off people glaring at him. Without a word, he handed the folder to Elliot, who had appeared beside Olivia.

He wasn't sitting in a chair, but on the end of the polished, round table. He looked at Porter, suspicious, then down at Olivia, whose head was an inch to the right of his leg. He dropped the foam cup he'd had in his other hand in front of her, and he gently slid it closer.

She sniffled, then looked at it. He made her a cup of tea, and she knew what he was trying to tell her.. She looked up at him, hopeful, and he gave her a sad nod.

As much as he hated the deceit, somehow she was still his priority, and deep known, he knew he was hers. He wasn't talking to her, but he didn't hate her. She pressed her lips together, painfully hard, and lifted the cup to her lips as her other hand hesitantly slipped up his thigh, to his knee, and clutched. She held her breath as she swallowed her tea, praying.

He didn't look at her, he was still staring at the folder in his hands. "What is this?"

"Her file," Porter said, nodding at Olivia.

"What?" Olivia questioned, her eyes dark, annoyed.

Porter grinned smugly. "You told him you never lied to him, didn't you?" He walked around the table, still looking at them as if he was about to win a long-played game of Chess. He flopped nonchalantly into a chair by the window. "This'll prove it." He chuckled. "Won't it?"

"There's...there's nothing in there he wouldn't...he already knows..." she eyed Porter again. "Wait, some of that is classified and he..."

Porter held up a hand. "It's just a copy of your personnel file, Benson. Anything...work related...that's all in New York." He sat back and folded his arms behind his head, waiting for redemption, either his or Olivia's.

Elliot took a breath, then looked down at Olivia. His hand moved over hers, and he grazed the size of it with his knuckles before pulling away and flipping open the folder.

_**Reviews are always encouraging. Thank you.**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	4. Mendacity 4

_**Part 4: Smoking Gun**_

_**Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.**_

The cold.

That's what woke her up close to three in the morning. She had been so warm in his arms after three days of frigidity between them. Not one word spoken, except at work. Not a single touch that wasn't purely professional. She understood why, and she gave him the time he needed to stew. She slipped out of bed and dressed, pulled her hair into a clip, and grabbed her shoes out of an opened duffel bag on the floor of the closet.

She walked into the living room and sat on the couch, and then reached for her cell phone. She dialed his number and waited, but he didn't answer. She dialed again, and then again, getting a voicemail message each time. "Of course," she said, staring at her phone and shaking her head. "You're still not talking to me." She took a deep breath, got off the sofa, and grabbed her coat off of the hook. She left the apartment and headed to the one place she assumed he would go at this hour.

Her mind wandered as she walked down the frozen sidewalk. She played back the events that had plagued her from the time she'd nabbed Bishop in California. They hadn't spoken at all about what he'd read in her file; the only thing he told her was there were no surprises. When their plane landed, he'd gone home with her in silence and slept on the couch.

The second evening back, after a rough day at work where they both struggled to keep certain things from the rest of the squad, he'd ordered takeout, made sure she ate, and, again, he'd slept on the couch.

Yesterday, though, she'd finally cracked. She'd yelled at everyone at work, for reasons she couldn't give them; she'd stormed out of the precinct, sped home, and had thrown herself into bed. He had followed shortly after. He'd planned to sleep on the couch, yet again, but in the silence of the apartment, he heard her crying. His heart broke, even more than it already had, and he'd felt his own tears building up as he pushed the bedroom door open.

She'd heard his footsteps looming closer, and she'd stiffened. Immediately, she'd pretended to be asleep, not wanting him to see her cry. She'd been trying so hard to push her feelings aside because, right now, his were all that mattered to her. She'd felt the dip in the mattress as he crept into bed and she clutched her pillow tighter as she felt his arms loosely fall over her. After three days of hell, which she'd admitted she deserved, she'd gotten some sleep because she felt home.

Now, though, she felt empty. Home, she realized, didn't exist without him, and there was some part of her that truly believed she lost him. In the darkness of the New York winter night, she chided herself for that, terrified to admit she needed someone so much. She kept walking, though, quick-paced and with purpose. She shivered as she turned the corner and hoped to God he was in the cold brick building up ahead.

She took the front steps two at a time, then flashed her badge to some suit behind the front desk. She hung a left and bounded up the stairs, her heart pounding with every footfall. When she walked into the squad room, though, her hope, what remained of it, was shattered. It was empty.

The now all too familiar burn behind her nose began to grow, but she shook away the tears. She was only getting what was owed to her, she mused. She was about to turn and leave, but a slamming sound from the captain's office caught her attention. With narrow eyes, she gripped the handle of her gun at her hip and moved fast, turning the knob, pushing the door open. She stood still for a moment, aiming her weapon at the enshadowed figure sitting in Cragen's desk, then relaxed. Torn between throwing her arms around him and ignoring him, she put her hands on her hips. "What the hell are you doing?" she yelled in a half-whisper.

He didn't even look up, remaining focused on the manilla folder in his hands. "Comparing notes," he said softly, reading fast. Flipping through pages, he made noncommittal noises and then finally looked up at her. "You really never..."

"I told you, I..." she holstered her gun and dropped helplessly into the chair near the door. "Never. I can't... I could never lie to you. If you ever asked me, I..."

"Porter...he told me you..." he threw the file on Cragen's desk, and he rose to his feet. He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip and took another step. "He told me you were gonna quit."

She wouldn't look up at him. She nodded and said, "That night...I had it all planned." Robotically, as if reading from a to-do list, she rattled off, "Nail Bishop, take you to DiCenno's, order enough wine to tranquilize a small elephant, tell you everything, and tell you I..." she stopped. Unable to meet his eyes, still, she sighed. "He always said he knew I'd have to choose, and he knew I'd choose..."

"Me," he finished for her. He grabbed her, then, one hand on either side of her, and pulled her to her feet. "You know how fucking angry I am? Do you?"

Her eyes were wide. She was never on the receiving end of this side of him, not like this. She held her breath and nodded.

"I don't think you do," he spat, evening her. He gripped her a little tighter. "You...you can't just...what are you doing here, anyway?"

"I was..." she felt his move lower and gasped. "I woke up and you were gone, I thought..."

He let a low, almost sadistic laugh escape. "I'm not," he said, "That's why I'm here in the fucking middle of the goddamned night!" He pulled her up and turned fast, dropping her on Cragen's desk. He pounded his fists on the wood, his strong arms now flanking her, and he leaned into her. "I had to know. I couldn't...fuck, I couldn't take another fucking minute of not knowing if you...if I could..."

"Trust me," she whispered, finishing his thought. She blinked once. "You said once...if you can't trust your partner..."

"Fuck, listen to me!" he yelled, swiping the scattered paperwork, including Olivia's file, off of the desk and onto the floor.

Olivia flinched, shutting her eyes tight, but opened them when she felt his hands on her again, this time gripping her shoulders. It took every nerve she had left to turn her head, and finally look at him.

"This was one thing, right? Just this one...pretty fucking huge thing, and I get..." he searched her eyes. "I get why. But I am allowed to hurt. I hurt like hell, but I am so fucking tired of this shit." He was babbling, unsure if he was making his point. He felt his pressure rise and he gritted his teeth. "How long?"

"What?" she asked.

"How long?" It was a yell this time, and he slammed an open palm down on the desk, making her jump.

"Before...I was...before..." her mouth opened and closed, but her brain had been scared into uselessness.

"Put a fucking sentence together, Olivia! God damn it!" He needed an answer.

"I was an agent before I met you," she said quickly. "I'm the NYPD plant. It wasn't...I couldn't tell anyone!" Her own anger, at herself, not him, rose to the surface after three days and lonely nights letting him process things without processing them herself. "Not just you, I mean, fuck, Cragen doesn't even know, so please don't make this any harder than it has to be and just fucking tell me you hate me so we can move the fuck on!"

He was fazed, stunned as he kept staring at her, needing to hit something, or cry, or both. He had no idea how to form the words he needed to say. In lieu of speaking, he kissed her, hard.

She moaned and cried out in anguish, shock, and relief all at once.

He moved his fingers along the seam of her coat, slipping it off and tossing it away, then, as if a switch had been flipped, he moved his hands to her chest. He let the backs of his fingers grazed her nipples before twisting the cotton fabric in his hands. He growled as he tore her shirt open, sending buttons sailing in all directions, and then let that same menacing laugh out against her lips as he used one hand to undo his belt and the other to grab and squeeze her left breast.

She moaned into his mouth, her hands clawing and clutching in desperate need of more of him.

He worked his pants down, then focused on hers as he bit her bottom lip hard and sucked on the tender spot he'd left behind. He mumbled something inaudible before pushing her down flat on the desk. His eyes, dark and impassioned, flashed with a hint of danger as he grabbed the cups of her bra, one in each hand, and pulled them down.

"Oh, God," she uttered in response, her body seizing. She sucked in a breath as she watched him bend his head, keeping their eyes locked. Her back arched as his lips closed around one of her nipples and one of his hands began toying and twisting the other. Fluttering eyelashes kept her from seeing the softening of his face as he flicked his tongue lightly over her beaded nipple, then blew lightly. She moaned, "El, what...please..."

"Shut up," he laughed softly, but his teeth were clamped on her nipple. He scraped his teeth against her sensitive skin before sucking, hard, still toying with and palming her other breast. His free hand moved lower toward her exposed cotton underwear, and he roughly pulled it aside and ran his finger through her hot, wet flesh. A low moan came from a place deep within him and he whispered, "That's for me, right?"

"Mother of God, yes," she moaned, letting her head fall backward, knocking the office phone to the floor.

He laughed and bit down, tugging on her nipple, twisting the other hard. He moved up her body fast and slanted his mouth over hers to catch her scream as he thrust with incredible force. Both of his hands smoothed up her body and he moaned as he tangled his fingers with hers and began to move.

Her head rolled from side to side as her hips met his, his name being repeated like a mantra with every crash of his body against hers. "El, I'm...I had to..."

"I told you," he whispered into her ear, "to shut up." He licked the conch of it then nipped her earlobe. "We'll talk later, but right now...please, just..." his final word was lost to a growling moan as he felt her grip him tighter.

She nodded then, knowing there were tears building up with the same intensity as her orgasm. Her fingers tore at his back, her legs wrapped around him begging him to sink deeper, move harder, needing him to prove he was really there.

He bit at her neck, feeling her heartbeat under his tongue, and he whispered something to her that set her off. "Fuck," he grumbled, feeling his cock being squeezed and clutched by her incredible body. He powered through it, not wanting it to end, needing to stake his claim indefinitely and interminably.

She curled around him so tightly, the Jaws of Life couldn't pry her away. She trembled against him as her teeth sunk into his shoulder, cumming hard, still repeatedly crying his name as teardrops slowly slid down her face.

He kissed her, grasping her as he slammed harder, and then finally he let go, grunting and growling against her lips. He stopped moving, and then he slowed his kiss.

There was silence once more, but this time it was welcome, necessary. He brought one hand to her face and gently held her chin as he tried to reach the depths of her soul with his kiss. He pulled away when his lungs burned with the need to breath, but his eyes stayed on her.

"El...you said..." she breathed, sniffling.

"Yeah," he whispered back, kissing her nose, then her forehead, then finally her lips again. He pulled away then pulled her up. "We're gonna be okay."

She took a deep and easy breath for the first time in days, blinking away the grief and fear that had eaten at her. "What...what just happened here?" She let herself laugh at the situation.

He looked at her, then, and he grimaced at the disarray of her clothes and the wrecked office. He shrugged guiltlessly. "I had to...I dunno...make up for lost time," he chuckled. "I didn't think. Liv, I was so busted up about all of this that it kind of festered into...that."

She was still staring at him. "You forgive..."

"No," he pressed a finger to her lips. "I, uh, no. It's a valid reason. You'd do it again if you had to, we both know that, and it wasn't a mistake. You...you're not sorry...nothing to apologize for, nothing to forgive."

She pressed her lips together, scooted off the desk, and tried to make herself presentable by fixing her bra, readjusting her underwear, and pulling her pants back up. Grabbing her coat to conceal the tattered button down, she let out a huff and took another look around the room. "So, what, this was one last fuck before..."

"Will you fucking stop that?" he shouted, rolling his eyes as he fixed his own pants. "I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He knelt down to pick up the strewn papers and pencils, and he plopped them on the desk. He turned and pointed at her. "Never again."

She dropped down to pick up the phone. As she settled it back in its spot, she bit her lip and looked at him. "What?"

"You," he said with a nod, wagging his finger at her. "Never keep any of this shit from me again." He moved to her, pressing his heaving chest against hers. "I mean it. Nothing."

She nodded eagerly, hoping this meant the worst was over, that they'd hit the eye of the storm. Whatever came toward her now, she could withstand, as long as he was still her shelter. "I never wanted to keep..."

"I know, but you did," he said sadly. He eyed her for a moment. "This..." he gestured to the desk. "Oh, shit, I really didn't think, I didn't hurt you, did..."

"No," she said quickly. "No. You never hurt me."

"Never," he said firmly. "And I never would, I promise. We...you know I..." He let the tension fade from his shoulders as he looked her her. "I need to know everything."

She raised an eyebrow. "I just promised you, I would..."

"Now," he cut in. "Porter said that everything work related was here, in New York."

"Oh, shit," she ran a hand through her hair. "El, you know I can't let you read them."

"I have to know," he stared at her, a disconsolate heartache set deep behind the endless love and hope in his eyes. "I need to...I have to get past this and the only way I think I can is if I really know everything."

She cupped his face in her hands and asked a silent question.

His answer was a slow, meaningful kiss. "Please," he almost sobbed.

Without opening her eyes, she pressed her forehead to his, and she nodded.

_**Reviews are very encouraging, ;)**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	5. Mendacity 5

_**Part 5: Above Board**_

_**Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.**_

It was hard enough convincing herself to give him access to old case files, but sitting in her office watching him read them was agony. She was antsy, unable to control her shaking knees, and she was biting her nails, something she rarely did. She tried to tap into every ounce of training, attempting to read the subtle changes in his face and eyes, body language, anything that would give her a clue as to how he was reacting to what he was reading.

"You..." he began, then looked over at her, surprised. "You used your resources from here...to find my mother, when Kathleen was..."

"Well, you never told me where she lived," she interrupted, glancing at him momentarily before moving her attention toward a box of unread paperwork on her desk. She was never here, so it was a rather large pile. She grabbed at a stapled packet and hoped he wouldn't realize how nervous she was.

He shook his head and closed the file in his hands, immediately opening another one. He read it, making a few humming noises when he came upon something interesting. "That whole thing with Nicholson, Porter only showed up because you couldn't..."

"Stay objective," she finished for him again, nodding. "I couldn't work the case from both angles without blowing my cover. I called him, since it was an FBI case before it was...ours. Yours. Ours." She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

He huffed as he flipped pages and read more, clearing his throat and trying to decide if he should be relieved or angry. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands after putting down the file. He looked at her when he picked up the next. He read the case number, the date, and he knew what it was. Sealview. "Is this...I mean, what am I gonna find in this one?"

She looked at it, her eyes bulged, and then she shook her head. "Don't," she told him. She got out of her seat, and on shaky legs she walked over to the leather couch he'd been sitting on. She picked up the pile of read files, put them on the floor, sat in their vacated spot, and then looked at Elliot. She reached for his hand, hoping he'd let her take it. "You asked me, so..." she started, and she closed her eyes. "You should hear it from me, not...and please don't think I wasn't planning on telling you this eventually, but I...I never really told anyone, and if I had told you...then...you'd only blame yourself because you..."

"I wasn't there," he whispered, his eyes closing in defeat. He opened them again, trying to prepare himself. "So, tell me."

"I guess, you know by now that it wasn't just an SVU case." She ran a hand through her hair. "The FBI got involved when we realized it was a corrections officer...and Fin...that was Porter's idea. I wanted you, you have to believe that, but Porter didn't..."

He scoffed. "Trust me," he completed. "I know." He prodded her with a, "Go on."

She gnawed at her lip and squeezed his hand a little harder in a futile attempt to keep from trembling. "God, why is this so hard?" she laughed bitterly.

"Breathe," he told her, moving closer to her. "It's me, okay? Please, just tell me."

She nodded quickly, feeling her body clench and twitch. "It...it was...during the mandatory TB testing, they were taking us out in groups and Harris...he pulled me into a different hallway." She swatted her bangs out of her face with her free hand. "I was cuffed so...I..." she paused to take another deep breath, "I couldn't get away. He, uh, pulled me into a cornered off room, locked us in and he, uh...fuck, Elliot, this is fucking hard."

He brushed a falling tear away with the thumb of his left hand, his right still holding hers. "Don't cry," he whispered. "I just...God, I don't want to make you cry but I..."

"I need to tell you this," she said, breaking him off. She swallowed hard and nodded once, cleared her throat and said, "He told me...that I was gonna do what he told me to, and I couldn't fight back. He grabbed my chin...there was this disgusting mattress on the floor, and I knew he..."

"Oh, my God," he said softly, closing his eyes. He swallowed back hard, feeling the bile rise. He pulled her closer as he opened his eyes and held his breath for a second. waiting.

She blinked a few times, building courage and trying to find the words. "He threw me down, onto the mattress, I couldn't get myself up." She inhaled sharply, shaking. "He walked over and pulled me up onto my knees, and I...I was already too close to the wall, but I tried to move back anyway. He just kept coming at me." She felt hot tears dripping down her cheeks, her stomach lurched hard, and she screwed her eyes shut.

"Fuck," he spat, his body now shaking along with hers.

She waited a moment, breathed, and continued, her eyes still closed. "But then...there was nowhere to go. He got...too close...to where I couldn't back up anymore, I couldn't turn away, nothing. He dropped his pants and he came closer, and closer, and he grabbed my head...told me to open my mouth..." she shook her head, taking another hard breath. "He was close. So close." She let out a strangled sob, the memory burning through her.

"Liv," he cried, a whisper as he tried to get closer to her, every muscle of his screaming to hold her but he knew if he touched her now she'd break, "God, Liv." His face burned and he knew once he looked into her eyes he'd be crying, too.

She finally opened her eyes, and she tried to look at Elliot without falling apart. "He...told me he'd kill me if I bit him, he moved and I just shut my eyes, and I couldn't...God, if Fin didn't get there when he did, he was gonna make me...he was..." she stopped, unable to say it, unable to think it, the memory alone making her sick to her stomach.

"I should have been there," he said softly, swiping his thumb under her eyes again. He was crying, now, too, his already boggled mind now wrought with the "what ifs" and he hated himself for being on the outside of a moment so dangerous when he promised he'd never let her get into a situation like that. "Fuck, I should have fucking been there!"

She nodded. "I know," she returned just as quietly. She turned his hand over in hers, and she looked down at it as she began to draw patterns in his palm with her fingers. "You saved me, though, if you really think about it." She sniffled and coughed. "You were the one who called Fin, told him to get me out of there." She turned her eyes up to look at him. "He wouldn't have come looking for me if you didn't tell him to..."

He stopped her word with a kiss; his hands ripped away from hers and he clamped her face between them as he ran his tongue along the slit of her lips, begging for entrance, begging for more. He moaned softly when she gave in, and she ran her hands up his arms, wrapping them gently around his wrists. He couldn't stop, as if he was trying to kiss away the horrendous memory. He felt guilty for making her bring it up, hating himself for forcing her to tell him.

She was the first to pull back, panting, her reddened lips curling into a slight smile. "Now, you know everything," she said with a shrug.

He nodded, his forehead brushing against hers as he did. He closed his eyes, still holding her, and tried to internalize everything he'd read. He despised Dean Porter even more now that he knew. There was a newly opened wound because he read all about Lauren Cooper, even though Olivia had told him about that case. She had told him how she watched the woman kill herself, but reading it all in such detail was hard for him. He found out why it was so easy for them to be sworn in as marshals, and why he was given clearance to take an international case. He knew more about Dana Lewis now than he ever cared to know, and now he finally had the answers to questions he'd asked her numerous times. He felt like shit because there was so much she'd gone through alone, without him, but he was beyond enraged at the reason he wasn't there.

"Say something," she said, her nerves getting the best of her again. She'd watched his face shift and contort and she couldn't discern what any of it meant.

"I don't know what to say," he told her with a sigh. He kissed her forehead, and then leaned back against the couch.

She bit her lip, then reached for the file she had stopped him from reading. "Here." She handed it to him and waited.

He looked confused. "Didn't you just tell me..."

"Open it," she told him, nodding once.

He flipped the front over, he read the cover sheet, but when he turned the page, he froze. "There's nothing..." he lifted the paper, but there was nothing after it. "All this says is 'statement pending," he said, his brows knitted together. He looked at her, and then it hit him. "You really never told..."

"The only other people who even know something happened are Fin and Doctor Warner," she said to him. "And they don't really know...everything." She eyed him carefully, swallowed the lump in her throat, and said, "I needed to tell you. You...you deserved to be the first to know what happened. Now, I guess, I can actually write up my statement."

He ran a hand down his face and shook his head. He gestured to the scattered files and papers and said, "I don't...I don't know what to do with all of this, but...I'm trying, okay? Thank you...for all of this." He watched her nod, then he asked, "Do I need to sign some kind of confidentiality..."

"No," she said fast. "No, no paper trail. As far as anyone else is concerned, you never read any of this. I could get in some pretty deep shit if..."

He raised a hand and grinned at her. "I solemnly swear, I won't tell," he joked, but she didn't laugh. She didn't even smile. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she nodded, but then she squeezed her eyes shut. "No," she admitted, and then her last fragment of resolve snapped. Her head fell into her hands, her body quaked as she sobbed.

He pushed aside his residual anger and his uncertainty, and he moved fast, pulling her into his arms. "Hey, what's the matter? What happened?"

She couldn't answer him. It was a release of the last three days mixed with the detained release of every ounce of pain and shame that one, single, event in her life had caused. "I can't..." she cried. "He almost..God he was so..." Her chest heaved with each harsh bawl . Her legs bent and she curled into a ball, her arms around his neck.

"He didn't," he whispered. "You're here, with me, okay? He never touched you." He felt her tears soak through his shirt, but he didn't care, he had never seen her breakdown like this, and it killed him. "He didn't hurt you. I am never gonna let anyone hurt you," he promised, gripping her tighter.

"I can't lose you," she said on a shaky breath. "I can't...I...God, El."

His eyes shut, and he ran his hands over her back in slow circles. "I'm here, I've got you. You're not...you're not gonna lose me." It was a whisper, right in her ear. His attempt at comfort failed as he felt her shake harder.

She quieted her wailing, though, and she sniffled, softly letting the tears fall. "I'm sorry, I never really dealt with...that...and then everything...I hated seeing you look at me like you didn't know who I was, and I thought...God, I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," he voiced a bit louder. "Why would you ever say..."

"I am." She pulled herself away from him, wiped her eyes, and shook out the tension, finding her usual composure once more. She stood up and sighed as she bent to pick up and reorganize the files. As she moved toward the cabinet to put them away, she let out a resentful sounding laugh. "I am," she said again, nodding, because I let myself get used to you being there, never once imagining I'd have to go back to living without you." She pulled her keys out of her pocket, locked the filing cabinet, and said, "I honestly believed that, when I told you about all of this, you'd...I'm an idiot." She shrugged and folded her arms, then took a few steps toward the door.

"Liv, I already told you..." he stood up and met her at the door. "This is a lot to deal with, and I am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, here. I understand." He raked his fingers through his short hair and pulled his bottom lip through his teeth. "You're not...I'm not going anywhere," he paused, "Except maybe to Rikers to fucking kill Lowell Harris."

She laughed, the last of her tears dried, and she looked at him. "If you wanted me to go..." she blinked, "I never unpacked. I was so sure you were gonna ask me to leave."

He kissed her gently, then gave her a slanted smile. "I would never ask you to...shit, that would kill me, don't you get that? I can't lose you, either." He took one last look around the office, and he started to guide her back toward the door. One file, though, caught under the leg of her desk, caught his eye. "Hold on."

"What now?" she whined. "It's already almost six, we have to go to work. What are you doing?"

He picked up the blue folder, running a finger along the edge. "I didn't see this one before." He flipped it open and read, and the anger that had been quelled built right back up.

She narrowed her eyes a bit. "That's...that's not mine," she said. "Mine are green, red, and yellow." She moved over to him, looked over his shoulder, and her breath hitched. "El, I...I have never seen this before."

"I know you haven't," he said, pulling her back toward the couch. "You would have killed him."

_**Reviews are always welcome.**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	6. Mendacity 6

_**Part 6: Hand in Glove**_

_**Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.**_

When six-fifteen rolled around, Olivia and Elliot were already on their third cup of strong coffee. They were situated in their desks at the precinct, Olivia rolling her pen between her fingers while Elliot read over a case file. "What are we missing?" he asked her, but it was purely hypothetical.

"Our captain, the other two detectives who are supposed to be here, breakfast..." she listed as she stared at the lid of her coffee cup. "Among other things that I'd gotten pretty used to having in the morning."

He smirked at her, shook his head, and looked back at the folder in his hands. "We closed this case, years ago, so what did Porter have to do with..."

"They never found the body," she interrupted. "Blue files are cold cases, but...it was never an FBI case. Not as far as I know. After everything that son of a bitch put us through, if Porter knows something and he didn't tell me..."

"He knows you'd tell me, and he doesn't trust me," he griped, grabbing the green and white thick paper cup. He sipped, long and hard, not caring that the hot liquid burned as it traveled down his gullet. It felt oddly satisfying; he'd been almost numb for three days, it was a welcome change. "That report...what was it doing in your office?"

She stared, slack jawed. "What, you're gonna second guess everything I tell you now?" she asked, leaning back and tossing her pen onto her desk. "You know everything, Elliot. Every damn thing, things you shouldn't even know without government clearance, things I have never told anyone...so if you really think I'm choosing now to lie to you, you...about some shitty case from..."

"Hey!" he barked, silencing her. "I was asking a simple fucking question! Who else has the keys to your office, why was it that particular file, that case when I...we...fuck, Liv, Porter knows all about what happened in that studio!" He closed his eyes and gulped down more coffee. "That I couldn't...ever..." he shook his head. "Hurt you." It came out as a terribly soft whisper.

"We got ourselves into some pretty deep shit, you and me," she mused, her fingers tangling in her hair. "You'll always come first," she told him, "You know I was..."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, then he slapped the file down. "Rook was handcuffed, there's no way he survived. Porter was probably trying to get me riled up again, ya know?"

She gave him a questioning glance. "He had know way of knowing I would bring you there, so it was left there for me to..." she stopped, she looked around the room and licked her lips, then leaned over to Elliot. "He wanted me to question it. Go to him, ask him what it all meant. El...he wants me to ask him, point blank, if Rook is out there somewhere, and he wanted to protect..."

"Tell me that piss-ant still has a thing for you," he interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"I don't know about that," she said, picking at her cuticles with her bitten down nails. "What I do know is he doesn't trust you, and it would make his life, and his job, easier if I didn't either." She flattened her smile and pulled the black and white NYPD t-shirt down as she shifted in her seat. "This is too fucking small," she scoffed.

"It was the only size they had upstairs, other than a three-x," he told her, eyeing the small patch of skin that the rising shirt revealed.

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't even have to wear this thing if you didn't go all Hulk on me this morning." Her tone was annoyed, but her eyes glimmered as they traveled to the captain's office door. She turned back to Elliot. "For what it's worth...I mean you know I had no choice, but I'm sorry you had to find out like that. You should have heard it from me," she tugged on the shirt again, and then drank the last of her coffee. "You couldn't have waited a couple hours?" she joked.

He gave a half-laugh, letting his head drop backward. "Can I be honest?"

"You're never anything but," she said. "Not with me."

He smiled at that, knowing it was true. "I, uh, I kind of...there were moments where I thought, maybe, you were..." he trailed off, waving a hand dismissively. "I always shook it off, because I thought...no, I knew that if that were the case, you would have told me."

"Do you know how many times I wanted to?" she queried with an irritated tone in her voice. "I went to Porter, fuck, more than I care to admit, begging him to read you in on cases, let you in." She grabbed the two empty coffee cups and threw them into the trash bin on the side of their desks. "He always found an excuse, especially after Bedford died."

"Bedford?" Elliot's eyes turned up, his fists clenched. "What the hell does that hump have to do with anything?"

"Dean...accused me of paying off the doctors at Mercy," she told him, her eyes clouding over with the realization that she would have done it, if it had been necessary. "He had tests run at a different lab, to double check." She let out a long, exhausted breath. "He thought you killed him, and that I was covering it up. You should have seen his face when he found out the kid had a heart condition, it was like someone kicked his puppy."

"You're right." He spoke with gritted teeth, a gravelly and raspy quality to his voice. "I should have seen his face. I should have been there."

"What are you more pissed off about," she started. "The fact that you found out the way you did, the fact that Porter can hold this over your head, or the fact that I..."

"You two are early," Cragen came in saying, preventing Olivia from continuing. "Blue moon?"

Elliot scoffed. "No," he spat. He eyed Olivia cautiously, looked at Cragen, and then watched as he walked into his office. He couldn't help the sneaky smile that spread across his face, remembering what had happened in that room only a few hours ago. When he was sure Cragen was out of earshot, he snapped his head back toward Olivia. "Don't you dare finish that question," he threatened, pointing at her. "I'm dealing, okay? It has nothing to do with you being in a higher rank or making more money, and for you to even think that I..." he paused. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're pissed that I had to work with Porter when you weren't around," she decided, smirking at him. "You're jealous? Of him? Seriously?"

He licked his lips with a narrow-eyed glare. "You know..." he sighed, "...part of me always will be. I can't..."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she leaned further over toward him. "I was ready to take Porter down," she jammed a finger into her desk to make her point. "I went along with that, for you, and I was willing to bring Porter to his goddamned knees. He doesn't trust you for shit, but in that case...he didn't trust me either, and he kept us in the dark, the man fucking got away with murder, so no, there is absolutely no chance anything is ever gonna happen with him. I chose you, then, and..."

"That fucking sucked," he broke in, not waiting for her to finish. "I had to sit in your bedroom...on the bed we...well, that bed held memories." He licked his lips and stifled a moan, briefly recalling late nights in that old apartment. "I had to listen to you...and him...and the kissing." He made a face and shook his head. "I'm gonna need more coffee."

"You know that...that didn't mean anything," she reassured him. "And if I remember correctly, when that case was closed, you made sure I forgot all about Porter and that kiss."

He stopped smiling, his face turned slightly and his focus shifted toward an ink stain on his desk calendar. "What was worse than listening to you two," he said, his voice like sandpaper, "When Rojas had that gun to your head and I...I couldn't..."

"No, but Dean did, and that...that will always be in the back of my mind," she told him, trying to get him to look at her. "He did, and I never found out if...I don't think he would have cared if..."

"Please, don't even go there," he too a sharp breath and straightened up, and then finally looked at her. "It's over, it's all over, and we can..." He was interrupted by Cragen throwing his door open.

"Someone wanna tell me why Olivia's jacket is on my desk?" Cragen barked, holding up the thick manila folder.

They both looked at him, then back at each other. "No idea," Elliot said with a shrug.

"You sure?" Cragen asked, giving him an accusatory look. "You weren't in there with this?"

Elliot smirked and held his hands out to his captain. "Why would I need to read that?" he asked, "I know everything about her." He watched Cragen's face relax as he turned to go back into his office, then he shifted his gaze to Olivia. "I do, don't I?"

She nodded, lowering her head, but her guilt-eaten eyes stared up at his. "I don't know what else to do to prove that."

Elliot opened his mouth to speak, but a familiar and unwelcome voice prohibited what would have been a meek attempt at a joke. "No," Elliot breathed, closing his eyes. "It can't be."

"Oh, but it is," Porter said, walking up to the joined desks and looking from Olivia to Elliot. "Have you given any more thought to what we talked about, Stabler?"

Olivia shot Elliot a harsh glare. "Wow, what?"

Elliot looked at her, then back at Porter. "Not really, no," he said. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"It seems I have, once again, angered the gods, and my punishment is needing your help," Porter explained, sarcasm and disdain in his voice. "You..." he pointed to Olivia. "You know the drill. And you..." he flipped his attention toward Elliot. "You have to decide before I get out of Cragen's office." He rocked on his heels as his face twisted into a scowling sneer. "Or, ya know, I could take her...alone...all the way to..."

"Cut it out," Elliot spat, his nostrils flaring. "Whatever you need me to do, I'll fucking do it, because I'll be damned if I let her out of my sight again."

Porter laughed. "Ah, trouble in paradise," he assumed. "Can't trust her anymore? Afraid she's keeping something else from you?"

"No," Elliot affirmed, standing suddenly and taking a threatening step toward Porter. "She's my partner," he said coolly, "Mine."

Porter gave Elliot the once over, his smirk turning to a disapproving frown. "Be careful, there, Stabler." He looked at Olivia and shook his head before turning back to Elliot. "Wouldn't want to make her think you were getting possessive."

"Think? No, she knows," Elliot retorted. "You're the one that needs to be careful."

"Right," Porter said dismissively, then moved toward Cragen's office.

"What the hell was that about?" Olivia questioned, shaking her head. "When did he talk to you without me?"

Elliot was still focused on Cragen's door, staring angrily at the wood and metal. "He called," he told her, "That's what woke me up. He said something that...it was why I came here to look at your file. I couldn't take him up on his offer if I wasn't sure you..."

"What offer? What the fuck, Elliot, you're the one keeping shit from me, now?" she asked bitterly.

He turned around and gave her a small smile, but his words weren't jovial. "Doesn't feel so good, does it?"

Her stomach knotted as she sighed. "I deserve that," she said, defeated. "What offer?"

"He told me the next time cases crossed, he'd let me in, but, uh, there's a condition..." he drummed his fingers along the edge of his desk. He stilled, then he looked at her. "How do you feel about me?"

She was taken aback, the question surprised her. "That was...you threw a curve ball, there, where did that come from?"

"Answer me," he demanded, moving toward her. He knelt in front of her, searching her eyes, as he asked again. "How do you feel about me?"

"Depends," she said, staring back at him. "How do you feel about me?"

He was stolid and expressionless. "You know how I feel, but I need to know if...I have to make a decision here, and I can't unless I know, no matter what happened..."

"My feelings haven't changed," she interrupted. "Have yours?"

"God, no, I just...I got hit with a lot, I'm still pissed, but it doesn't change..." he stopped himself, he turned to look over his shoulder, and then he leaned in and kissed her just once, quickly. "You told him...that if you had to choose, you'd choose this. Me. Right?"

"In a heartbeat," she said, "El, just tell me what's going on, here."

"I don't know," he said with a sigh, then he got to his feet and sat back down at his desk. "All I know is...I choose you." He blinked once, then looked over at Cragen's door again. It was the easiest choice he'd ever made.

_**Reviews are kind, and appreciated. :)**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	7. Mendacity 7

_**Part 7: Sharp Practice**_

**_Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction._**

"You didn't have to tell him you would do this," Olivia told Elliot while dropping her duffel bag onto the floor of the hotel room. She put her hands on her hips, suddenly grateful she never unpacked it, and then kicked it under the small table beside her.

He flipped on the lights and cleared his throat, tossing his bag on top of hers. "I did, actually," he countered. "I certainly wasn't gonna let him do this with you, besides you only picked up this case as a result of one of mine."

"Ours," she corrected.

He caught her eyes, bit his lip, then turned to lock the door. "This isn't gonna take long, right? You know where the fucker is?"

"I know," she told him. "Trust me, I know." She pulled off her jacket and threw it onto a chair in the corner. "Just so we're clear, he didn't read you in on this, this isn't your case, you can't get involved, you do know that, right?"

He walked over to her, narrowing his eyes. "Why do you think I'm here?" he asked her. "I'm only here because you're in trouble." He circled her as he pulled off his coat, tossing it on top of hers. "See, I told Porter...that as much as he doesn't trust me, I trust him less," he explained, running his hands down the length of her arms. "When he called, he made me an offer. Next time you needed any kind of protective detail, it would be me, as long as I didn't interfere professionally."

She raised an eyebrow. "So, you being here, it's..."

"Strictly personal," he nodded, one hand looping around her waist. He pulled her close, his eyes darkened, and then he used his free hand to pull the buttons of her pants apart. "Wouldn't be able to do this if it wasn't, huh? Not my case, so I'm not on the clock, and technically, you're off duty until tomorrow morning."

"El, what are you..." she was stopped abruptly when his finger pressed against her lips.

He shook his head at her, shoving her pants down. "Shh," he hushed, moving his other hand. He worked on getting her green button-down shirt open and off, keeping it intact this time, and he grinned hungrily when it fell to the floor. He held her gaze steadily as his fingers danced over the satin of her bra, making her shiver and moan. His eyes dropped lower and he groaned, watching her nipples peak under his touch. "I love this part," he whispered.

"What part?" she asked, biting her lip, but it came out on a series of moans. She gasped when his chilled fingers unhooked her bra, goose bumps rising with his touch.

He palmed both of her breasts, squeezing gently, brushing his thumbs over both nipples at once. "The part where I see exactly how you respond," he told her, and then he bent his head and dropped a few small kisses to her neck. He whispered in her ear, "When I can tell...you want me." He bit her earlobe, earning a moan from her that made every nerve in his body ignite.

"You know I want you," she told him, finally moving to undo his belt buckle. "Always."

He scraped his teeth along her neck, over her shoulder, and pulled at her bottom lip with his teeth. "Yeah?"

She nodded, swallowing hard. "Always," she repeated, choking out the word on a cry, reacting to the way he'd shoved his cold hands between the fabric of her panties and her skin.

Chuckling, he nuzzled her. "Good," he said arrogantly. He kissed her when he got her underwear down around her ankles, and then picked her up in his strong arms and tossed her on the bed. His dark eyes focused on hers as he finished the job of disrobing. He pulled his shirt off over his head, threw it over his shoulder, and then kicked off his shoes. He bent down and grabbed her ankles, remaining fixed on her eyes as he pulled off her boots. He saw her pupils dilate, noticed the color of her eyes shift, and his smirk grew vicious. He ran his tongue up the entire length of her leg, feeling her shiver in response.

"El, what are you..." the words were swallowed by a harsh inhalation and a shuddering moan of his name. She closed her eyes and gripped the quilt beneath her, twisting the cotton in her hands when his tongue reached its destination. She whispered his name again, letting one hand drop the sheets and fly to the back of his head.

He hummed against her clit before he flicked at it with the tip of his tongue. He nudged her thighs with his elbows, spreading her wider, then trailed his fingertips in small circles on her hip. He waited until he felt her growing wetter, until he heard another moan, another soft cry of his name, and he slipped his fingers into the dip of her hip, lower, until finally he let them join his working mouth.

"Oh, my God," she gasped, arching her back, feeling one of his thick fingers push into her.

"Not yet," he warned, surprised that she was already clenching around the one, single digit. He pushed himself up a bit, sucked her slickness off of his finger, and moved up her body, lightly grazing her skin with his fingertips as he did it. "You," he said pointedly, never taking his eyes off of hers, "...are mine." He hooked his arms under hers and pulled, sliding her further up the mattress. "Mine."

She nodded slowly, bucking her hips and letting her hands graze his arms. She felt his muscles twitch, a warning sign that he was a volcano about to erupt.

"I don't think you get it," he said, peering down at her. "Mine, my partner, my girl, my...my life," he breathed out, his voice wavering. He cupped her face, smoothing his thumbs under her eyes over the apples of her cheeks. He brushed his lips lightly against hers and whispered once more, "Mine," and then slammed his mouth into hers as he thrust into her hard.

She screamed in ecstasy, into his mouth, writhing in an answer to the unexpected roughness. She whimpered as he began to move, her mind trapped between needing him to go faster, harder, or move slower and savor every blessed moment.

He refused to stop kissing her as he controlled the pace, rocking into her punishingly fast until he felt her begin to clamp down around him, and then backing off, slowing down and making her wait. His fingers glided up her sides, then took hold of her wrists and he held both of them tightly in one of his large hands. His other traveled down, gripping her leg. He hooked her thigh and lifted, opening her up a bit as he pulled back, rising to his knees.

The angle made her body sing, she let a few curses fly as her back curved back. His name rolled off her tongue like a sweet prayer and she tried to look up at him. "Please," she begged, trying to tug her hands away from him.

He grinned and nodded, loosening his grip on her wrists, but her reprieve was short lived. He rushed both of his hands to her waist, and he slipped out of her for a moment as he growled and lifted her up, turning her around.

"Oh, fuck, Elliot," she panted, knowing what was coming. She felt his hands move slowly, pressing into her skin and urging her up until she, too, was on her knees, her back pressed into his chest.

He rested his chin on her shoulder, his left hand stayed splayed on her stomach as his right grasped her right thigh. He picked up her leg and wrapped it around his back, then positioned himself at her entrance. He whispered, "I'm yours, too, in case I wasn't making myself clear."

She couldn't help the volume of her cry when he thrust again. The intimate position and incredible angle allowed him to hit spots so deep it could only be described as claiming the land as his own. "Elliot," she moaned, elongating every syllable of his name, her arms reaching up, back, and around to clutch his head. Her nails scratched at whatever parts of his scalp and neck she could reach, and she could feel hot wetness trickling down her left leg.

He felt it, too, and let the hand on her stomach slither lower, wiping the trail away then curving around to toy with her clit. He felt her knees almost buckle and he hammered harder, keeping her steady. "I got you," he whispered into her ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth. He moaned, sending vibrations coursing through her, and his hot breath caused shivers to run down her spine.

She shook her head. "Not...El...please, I need...fuck, please..." she babbled, unable to ask for what she so desperately desired.

He knew, though, because he needed the same thing. Unwilling to break contact again, and unsure if he even could with the way she had tightened around him, he grabbed the leg that had been looped over his hip and he gave her one good, hard toss, flipping her around to face him. He laughed when he saw the look she was giving him, and he kissed her deeply, pushing her back down to the mattress. He waited for a moment, and then rolled them over with a grunt. He looked up at her and slapped her ass hard, as if commanding her to move.

She nipped at his lips as she bucked, riding him hard, fast. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she knew he would wear his crescent scars proudly when this was over. "Tell me," she requested. It had been too damn long and before she really began to doubt it, she needed to hear it.

"Fuck," he spat, swelling and twitching inside of her. He reached up and pinched her nipples, tugging and rolling them between his fingers. He felt his heart speed up and his breath quickened as he watched the way her body moved, the way her face changed, and he could read every emotion in her eyes. "Liv, fuck, God."

"El, tell me," she repeated, refusing to let go without hearing him say it. There was no denying it; he truly did own her, heart, body, and soul. "Oh, my God, El."

He sat up slightly, grabbed her around the neck and back, and pulled her down to him. He kissed her passionately, hitting upward into her, keeping her still, and he pulled away at the last second before he knew they'd both explode. "I love you," he grunted, and he kissed her again, in time to catch the incredible vocal acrobatics her orgasm ripped from her throat. He growled, cried, and moaned as his body kept pumping hers, and he came hard, firing straight into her like a cannon, still holding her so tightly against him.

She was the first to stop trembling, languidly kissing him as small aftershocks milked him dry, earning a foul curse every time. She combed over his arms with her nails, giving him goose bumps, returning the favor for the ones he'd roused from her to begin with. "Where...what was..."

"I don't know," he huffed, his chest rising and falling hard as he tried to calm his jagged breathing. But it was a lie. He knew exactly what brought it on, and he took great pleasure in knowing that on the other side of the wall, Dean Porter was feeling the envy that Elliot had felt, years ago, only with greater intensity. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his fingers playing in Olivia's hair, trying to let go of the remnants of ire he'd still harbored.

"I love you," she muttered, dropping soft pecks to his chest.

He exhaled, letting go of the negativity of the last few days, focusing on her being in his arms. "Mine," he said again, kissing her forehead. He felt her heartbeat against his chest, and he knew, despite everything, she was his, and he needed to make sure she always would be.

_**Reviews are welcome ;)**_

_**Peace and Love**_

_**Jo**_


	8. Mendacity 8

**_Part 8: Twisted Web_**

**_Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction._**

"You were asked...no, you were ordered to stay out of it!" Porter was pissed off, his chest puffed out and his eyes severely narrowed. Veins were visible on his forehead and neck, but no one could be certain if he was upset that someone disobeyed him, or if he was angry that he wasn't the one that got to save the damsel in distress.

Not that Olivia Benson had ever been a damsel, nor had she been in distress.

Elliot looked back at Porter with a cocky grin and a cold stare. "I don't take orders from you," he said smugly. He crossed his arms and leaned back casually in his chair. "You're not my boss, and it was, after all, extenuating circumstances."

Porter pounded a clenched fist on the table, kicked a chair, and pointed angrily at Elliot. "This wasn't your case!" he yelled. "You...take orders from anyone...of a higher authority than you!"

"And you think that's you?" Elliot scoffed. "I did some digging, pal, and you're pretty much the bottom of the FBI food chain." He smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, shifted in his seat, and said, "I happen to have, uh, heard through the grapevine...you're about to be passed up for a pretty big promotion. Oh, and, uh, I also know who they're giving it to, so...I know what this little temper tantrum is about."

Porter's nostrils flared, the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end, and he was shaking uncontrollably. "That is...so not...I'm not throwing a tantrum!" he stomped his foot and turned his head with a huff.

Elliot had to laugh; as a father, he knew a tantrum when he saw one. "She's gonna be great, you know it," he said, his voice taking on a more serious quality. "And this whole thing...I shot him in the leg, you still made the collar. I didn't jeopardize your case." He eyed Porter pointedly. "I would never do that to you, but i know you've compromised my cases before, haven't you? Rojas, for one."

Porter blinked. "You think I knowingly..."

"I know you did," Elliot said with a shrug. "I didn't know about Liv, then, of course, but knowing now? Makes it all the more obvious, you kept her in the dark, you got away with murder...twice."

"Twice?" Porter questioned, stunned. He grabbed the chair off of the floor, setting upright, and straddled it in hopes of appearing threatening. "What are you accusing me of, Detective?"

"I thought I was just being paranoid," Elliot said, his visage growing dark, "But it makes total sense now. Rook. The bomb. You knew Liv and I were there, you knew I wouldn't feed into his delusions, and you knew..."

"How could I have possibly known that?" Porter interrupted. The vein in his neck throbbed and sweat began to bead along his hairline. "I had nothing to do with..."

"It became a federal case," Elliot cut him off, "After the trial, when he kidnapped Liv. He abducted a federal agent, therefore you had to be notified, right?"

Porter swallowed hard, but shook his head. "No one told me, I...I had no idea she was...you're making a fool out of yourself, Stabler."

Elliot smirked and continued. "You tracked Liv, using her cellphone's GPS, you knew exactly where she was, where I was." He sneered and shook his head. "You knew Rook was up to something, you showed up with a couple of guys, hoping to run in and play the hero, but you backed off when you found out there were explosives involved." He tilted his head. "You thought about it, and you realized what her death would mean for you."

"You...you read the file?" Porter breathed. "No, no, see...she was supposed to..."

"Think I set her up," Elliot finished. He nodded, but then he stood up. "She was supposed to think that I wanted her out of the way. You really thought she'd believe that? No, Porter, you're smarter than that. You...wanted us both to blow up with the building. She was jeopardizing everything you were working for, because she couldn't give up on me, she wouldn't put you and the fucking FBI first. And me, well, I would be collateral damage, but you wouldn't have minded." He put his hands on the rim of the chair, then leaned over to look Porter in the eyes. "The file was blue...not because Rook is still out there, alive...but because Liv is."

Porter shot to his feet and pushed the chair hard. "You think you're so fucking smart, don't you, Stabler?" He gave a bitter laugh and turned up his nose at Elliot. "Years of having her risk...not just her job, but mine! Countless times she took the credit for cases I built, because she closed them, with you! Years of watching her lust after you, even when you wouldn't give her the time of fucking day, when I was right there, waiting for her! You know how many times she put her ass on the line for you? How many times she chose..."

"Me," Elliot said firmly. "She told you! She said it! She will always choose me." He took a few steps toward Porter and lowered his voice. "You're damn lucky I only shot that asshole in the leg, I gave your case that respect, but when it comes to having to make a choice...you now damn well, I will always choose her. I'm not like you, Porter. My badge...it's not my life. I won't give her up for a hunk of metal on my hip."

"You're right, Stabler," Porter said, and then took a step closer to Elliot. He licked his lips, nodded once, and said, "You're nothing like me. I won't let anyone get in my way, and I do what I have to do to get what I want." He froze, hearing the slow click of heels on the floor behind him. He hung his head, and his eyes closed. "Olivia," he whispered.

Olivia gave him a sneaky look and a slight wave. "Surprised to see me?"

"We...were just talking," Porter said, straightening up. "He, uh...you know it was lucky he was there, you were in the line of..."

Olivia held up a hand, shaking her head. "Don't even try it," she said. "He's wired."

With a wide eyed grin, Elliot pulled his shirt up to reveal a thin black wire and small microphone taped to his chest. "I'm wired," he chuckled.

"You set me up," Olivia said, "And you threatened my partner, we got it on tape."

"Your part...I am your partner," Porter yelled, but he rolled his eyes and waved his hands in frustration. "You never call me that."

"Partners work together," she said, folding her arms and moving to the left, fully blocking the door as she reached for the knob. "Not against each other."

Porter looked at her over his shoulder. "You lied to him, Benson! You really think he can trust you after that? He won't..."

"I kept something from him," she broke in, correcting him. "We worked it out, he gets it, I have never lied to him." She chuckled and turned the knob, opening the door to reveal two agents, waiting to bring Porter into a formal inquisition . "I lied to you."

Porter was shoved toward the nearest agent, but he turned to face Olivia. "What...what...what just happened here?"

Elliot stepped up and looped an arm around Olivia. "I trusted her," he said. "We had a lot of time to talk, in that room, all by ourselves."

"Yeah, I heard you," Porter snapped. "That wasn't talking."

Olivia laughed and let her crossed arms fall. "After that," she said. "I told him why I thought you left that file in my office, why you made that offer to Elliot, and why you picked this case, this guy, to let him be my detail," she said, "But when I got a call from the director offering me a promotion, and that you weren't even being considered for it, I knew."

"And I told her," Elliot said, pulling her closer, "That however I could help her, I would, because I couldn't wait to see you get exactly what you deserve."

"This was entrapment," Porter said, gritting his teeth. "I'm gonna tell the director you just pulled this little stunt, and he..."

"He knows," Olivia said, watching as the agents tugged Porter down the hall. She looked at Elliot, smiled softly, and gave him a soft kiss. "Thank you," she whispered.

He narrowed his eyes and reared back a bit. "For what?"

She kissed him again, letting her lips linger on his until it bordered on obscene. She rested her head against his, and very quietly, she said, "Trusting me."

**_Reviews are always welcome :)_**

**_Peace and Love_**

**_Jo_**


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